In the Cold Cold Night
by Lazarus Risen
Summary: Mohinder and Zane make a pit stop at a restaurant. Slash.


In the Cold Cold Night

The long expanse of black highway seemed to stretch on into oblivion. The dark evening sky was littered with thousands of tiny, bright stars that twinkled and winked at the two companions driving along underneath them.

Mohinder Suresh looked up at the inky night, his hands gripping the steering wheel with his (mysteriously) sweaty palms. Considering how cold it was outside, it didn't make too much sense for his hands to be perspiring, but he chalked it up to the fact that he had been driving for at least five hours now, and it was rather exceptionally warm inside the car.

"It's a nice night out," he commented as his fellow traveler, Zane Taylor, stirred in his seat.

"Hmm," he murmured, and rubbed his eyes. "How much farther do we have to go?"

"I'm not sure. We still have quite a ways to go, I believe." He scratched his ear and glanced over at Zane, who was stretching and yawning. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"No, no, it's fine." Zane rolled down the window, letting in the chill breeze. "I'm starving. Can we get something to eat?"

"Sure. As soon as we see a restaurant."

Zane snorted. "In a couple years."

Mohinder smiled, but quickly flicked his eyes away when he saw Zane slouch and lazily scratch his chest. He sniffed and stared at his feet.

"Something wrong, Mohinder?"

"No. I'm fine."

They drove in silence for a while, until Zane suddenly exclaimed, "Look! Food."

Sure enough, there was a poorly-lit sign that read "FOOD" on the edge of the road, accompanied with a relatively small, wooden building with motorcycles and a few pick-up trucks scattered outside of it. Mohinder couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle at the sign's bluntness.

Zane seemed in no mood for laughing at one-word signs, however, and merely implored Mohinder to stop the car by shoving his arm.

"C'mon! I'm _so_ HUNGRY," he complained, and Mohinder felt his shoulder stiffen as Zane continued to lightly push it. "We haven't eaten in _six hours. _C'mon!"

"All right, all right, we'll get some food, Zane!" Mohinder laughed, although his entire arm seemed to have turned into some sort of rigid board. He felt tempted to rub it, but he didn't.

Zane gave a huge sigh of relief as Mohinder turned the car into the restaurant's parking lot. To be perfectly honest, he was rather hungry himself, and glad that Zane was so insistent on getting something to eat, because otherwise they would still be driving. For some reason, Mohinder found himself unable to make any suggestions or to talk much at all while Zane was sitting in the passenger seat. Something about their proximity always threw him off.

The gravel crunched underneath the tires as Mohinder pulled into a space next to a bright red motorcycle. Zane practically flew out of the car and slammed the entrance door open with his shoulder before Mohinder could even put on the brakes.

_Wow, he really _is _hungry,_ Mohinder thought as he climbed out of the car himself. Zane was a rather odd creature who could be utterly diffident and small at times, and then suddenly switch to confident and fierce. Either way, Zane made Mohinder pleasantly nervous, although he didn't know why. Or maybe he just didn't want to know.

When he entered the rather seedy establishment, he saw Zane already sitting at a table, scanning the room for a waitress.

"Mohinder! Over here," Zane called, and waved his arm to catch the geneticist's attention. Mohinder smiled and sat in the seat opposite the super-powered man who was in critical need of nourishment. A vague wish to have the ability to make food instantly appear drifted through his head, but the thought was soon gone.

Zane tapped his fingers on the tabletop and gave Mohinder a shy smile. "Think they have anything good here?"

Mohinder's heart seemed to skip a beat. "Um..." He glanced around at the other tables. "I...don't know." He stared down at his hands and concentrated on slowing down his heart rate. How could a simple smile cause him to feel so...?

He thought he saw Zane smirk, but was sure he had imagined it when he looked up and Zane was giving him a full-on grin.

"Hope they have steak," he said. "I could go for something meaty right now. I'm very...ravenous."

"Uh-huh." Mohinder suddenly had a flash of Dale's brainless corpse and cringed. The bloody, gory image of it would appear in front of his eyes at random moments...it was a rather difficult thing to forget.

Zane tilted his head. "Something's bothering you. I can tell."

"Oh...it's just...Dale, and..." Mohinder sighed and smoothed his hair back. "It's such a disturbing..." He paused and gave a faint smile. "Never mind. I'm fine."

Zane gazed solemnly at him, and Mohinder felt extremely awkward as those large brown eyes seemed to stare straight into him. "We'll find Sylar, Mohinder. Don't you worry."

"I don't _want_ to find him. After what he did to Dale...doesn't seem like the sort of man one would invite to a house party." He shook his head. "No. Let's just stick to warning others about him. Hopefully some will be able to protect themselves without our help."

"Okay." Zane gave another small smile, and a slight shiver crawled up Mohinder's spine.

"What can I get you boys?" The waitress had finally shown up, with her blonde hair in a high ponytail and make-up heavily applied all over her face. Her pen was poised in front of a pad, ready to take their order.

"Um, do you have any steak, or...?" Zane tentatively asked.

"Of course." She rolled her eyes, as though Zane had just asked the dumbest question in the world. "How d'you want it?"

"Well done, thanks."

"And you?" She turned to Mohinder.

"I'll have what he's having."

"Y'all want something to drink?"

"An iced tea, thanks," Zane said.

"I'll just have a water."

"All right. I'll be back," she said, and abruptly whisked away.

The air hung heavy with the stench of cigars, urine, and several other unsavory smells that Mohinder did not care to try and classify. He coughed, and waved his hand in the air to clear away the smoke that was drifting over from the bar.

"I'm not exactly sure this is the most hygienic place to eat one's food, Zane," he remarked, still coughing slightly.

Zane glared up at him with a most unsettling look in his eyes. "_We're eating here_," he snarled, teeth bared like a completely savage animal.

Immensely startled, Mohinder put his hands up in surrender and pulled back slightly. "I—no need to get upset, Zane—I was just commenting—"

Zane slowly closed his mouth and blinked; his face morphed back into its usual reserved and kind self, and he rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said, shame-faced, "I just get really...crazy...when I'm this hungry..."

"It's...it's fine, Zane," said Mohinder, and wished he would stop saying the man's name so much. "I understand."

Zane gave a tiny smile. "You do, don't you," he whispered. "You understand..."

All sound seemed to have been sucked out of the room as Mohinder and Zane stared at each other, Zane's burning eyes probing every inch of Mohinder's blushing face with an utter fascination and...calculatedness.

"I...I, uh, wonder how long those steaks are going to take," Mohinder stammered, tearing his eyes away from Zane, who seemed disappointed.

"Not for a while, probably," he said, looking up at the ceiling for some unknown reason. "What to do 'til then..."

_I can think of a couple things_... He shook his head to clear some rather disturbing thoughts, and his attention became arrested over near the bar, where a large man wearing a red bandana and a leather jacket was arguing heatedly with a short, busty woman.

"I _tol_' you, Johnny, I didn't sleep with your goddamn _brother_!" the woman was shrieking, attempting to get in the large man's face, but was having difficulties, given the massive height difference.

"That's not what _he_ said!" the man named Johnny growled.

"Oh, so you're gonna listen to your goddamn _brother_, but you're not gonna listen to _me_!" she cried, and hit his arm. "You're such a big doofus, Johnny! God!"

"He _told_ me," Johnny insisted.

"All right, fine! You know what? I _did_ sleep with your goddamn brother, and he was the best fucking lay I ever fucking had! You happy now?" She snatched her purse off of the bar stool. "Like you're one to talk anyways, with your little hussies you bring home every single goddamn night! Jesus, Johnny." And with that, she stormed huffily out, leaving a confused and hurt Johnny behind her.

Mohinder heard Zane chuckle behind him.

"It's amazing, the petty arguments some people get into," he said.

"I'd hardly call their argument petty," Mohinder said, turning back in his seat. "She had sex with the man's brother, after all." He felt his face turn hot when he said "sex".

Zane shrugged. "I just think there are more important things to argue about, you know? If you're going to argue at all. We live in such a hateful world already. I don't get why some people want to make it worse. We should all live in harmony."

"Well, given human nature, I don't think that's really possible," said Mohinder. "Man is always creating strife and causing harm to other men. It's been that way since the beginning of humankind. What sort of catalyst could cause that to change?"

Zane looked contemplative for a few seconds, then said, "You know, you need to have more faith in people, Mohinder. They might surprise you."

"Yes, well..." He let the sentence trail off and wrung his hands together.

The waitress suddenly appeared next to them, and placed their drinks unceremoniously on the table.

"Here," she grunted, and started to walk away, when Mohinder called after her:

"Excuse me, miss, but when exactly will the steaks be ready?"

"I dunno. 'Round thirty minutes," she said, and continued on her way.

He sighed and took a long sip of water.

"I don't think I can survive for another thirty minutes," Zane said, holding his stomach. "Shouldn't have ordered steak. Maybe we should've ordered, like, bread or something instead."

"Perhaps." He took another sip of water.

"Look, Mohinder..." Zane leaned in closer, and Mohinder felt his heartbeat accelerate again. "If you want to talk about Dale...I'm here. I understand what you're going through."

Mohinder snorted, despite himself. "What could you understand about it?"

"Well, I saw the body too, remember?"

"You did.."

"But this isn't just about that, though, is it? It's about your father."

He blinked. "That's rather astute of you."

Zane shrugged again and smiled. "What can I say? I have a talent for knowing what makes people..._tick_." An odd look came over his face, and he paused. "But enough about me. Is Dale...is that how Sylar killed your dad?"

"No, it wasn't. My father didn't have a genetic mutation. Sylar would have no reason to remove his brain." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, desperate to change the subject, but Zane pressed on.

"Still...you must be going through some rough stuff now," he said, giving Mohinder a disquietingly scrutinizing look-over. "The world is a messed up place, Mohinder. But you and me...we can make it right. We'll help those people, the people on your list. Offer them salvation. A way out."

"The..." Mohinder gulped; this conversation was utterly strange, but simultaneously—somehow—_stimulating_. Or maybe the stimulating part was the fact that Zane's arm was much too close to his own. "The world _is_ a dark place. And I certainly hope we can help these people. That's what we're trying to do, isn't it?"

"Of course. Yes." Zane nodded, and fell back into his seat.

Relieved that Zane seemed to be finished with the topic, Mohinder looked once again over at the bar, where Johnny was cheerily ordering shots of tequila for himself and his buddies.

"He's seemed to recover rather quickly," he observed. "You Americans don't appear to become too attached to people, from what I've seen."

"It's a defense mechanism," said Zane. "Not all of us do it."

"_You _don't seem to," said Mohinder, facing Zane. "You seem to cling on to people rather quickly, actually."

"Oh..." Zane laughed and waved his hand in the air carelessly. "I don't normally get attached too easily, either. It's just you."

"W-what?"

"It's just you." He smiled, sending a jolt straight to Mohinder's, once again, rapidly thumping heart. What did he mean? What could he possibly mean by...

"I like you, Mohinder."

Every inch of him was suddenly on edge; he could feel every drop of saliva on his lips, every drop of water that had not yet evaporated, and feelings that he had not experienced in quite some time, where the hair on every bit of him stood on end and he didn't know where he was and there were shooting, pleasurable thunderbolts running through his nerves that almost made him cry out loud, and—

"Excuse me," Mohinder said quietly, slowly getting up from his seat. "I have to use the restroom."

"Sure. I'll wait." Zane had a strange, smug, knowing look on his face as Mohinder quickly made his way to the bathroom.

* * *

He hadn't done anything in there. He couldn't bring himself to, in a public, dirty, disgusting men's room in the middle of nowhere. All he did was lean against the stall door and try to calm himself down, with deep, shuddering breaths that shook his whole body.

It didn't work.

He was forced to return to the table after five minutes of futility, and was surprised to discover that the steaks had already arrived.

"I thought it was going to be another thirty minutes," he said as he sat back down.

"Guess not." Zane took a bite of his steak. "You okay? You were in there for a while."

"Yes, I'm fine," he lied, and hungrily dug into his steak as well.

* * *

Their forks clattered simultaneously onto the tabletop as they finished their respective meals, Zane rubbing his stomach and groaning.

"I never thought I would be full again," he said, chuckling slightly, "and now I don't think I want to eat anything ever again. Ever."

"Neither do I," Mohinder said, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "I'm exhausted. What time is it?"

Zane made a motion as though he were about to look at his watch, then paused. "Oh, right. They took it..." he mumbled.

"Who took what?"

"Um, someone stole my watch a while ago," Zane said, rubbing the spot where presumably his watch had been. "I keep forgetting it's not there. Not like it really matters, though...it was broken, anyway..."

"I'm sorry." Mohinder didn't know why he was apologizing.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's not your fault." Zane looked upon him with kind eyes, and said, "Guess we should leave now."

"I suppose." Mohinder took his wallet out of his coat pocket, and the waitress seemed to magically appear before them.

"Y'all ready to pay, then?" she asked, snapping her gum. She didn't bother waiting for their answer and slapped the bill on the table.

"_Eighty dollars?_" Mohinder exclaimed, staring at the bill in disbelief. "All we had was two steaks!"

"Yah," she said, snapping her gum again. Zane looked extremely irritated. "Steak costs a lot. Don'tcha know?" And with that, she left.

"Someone ought to slice her head open," Zane muttered.

"Well, there's nothing we can do but pay," Mohinder sighed, and placed his bills neatly on the table. "There goes half of our gas money..."

"I'm sorry, Mohinder," Zane apologized. "We shouldn't have come here. I can give you some of _my_ money..."

"It's fine, Zane. You were hungry. It's not your fault."

"Please. Let me..." And Zane pulled a wad of money out of his pants pocket and slid it over towards Mohinder.

"Zane..." He rifled through the bills, astonished. "There must be a hundred dollars here! I couldn't possibly..."

"No. Take it. It's the least I can do, for all that you've done for me."

"Well, thank you, Zane." He didn't feel quite right about it, but stuffed the money into his coat pocket anyway. He could always convince Zane to take it back later. "You're very kind."

"Anytime." He smiled and said, "Should we head out now?"

"Yes, let's," said Mohinder, and their chairs scraped the wooden floorboard as they stood up, put their coats back on, and left, feet shuffling and hands in their pockets.

* * *

"It's _freezing_," Mohinder said, shivering underneath his coat. He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed his hands vigorously up and down his shoulders.

Zane exhaled experimentally, and wisps of fog streamed out of his mouth. Mohinder shivered again, although not from the cold this time.

"I can see my breath," Zane said softly. "It's so cold out here..."

"Let's get in the car," Mohinder said. "It's warm in there."

"It is." He said this with a strange significance, his mouth curling slightly.

Mohinder unlocked the doors, and Zane quickly ducked inside, rubbing his hands together.

"Do you think we'll make it to New York by tomorrow?" Zane asked before Mohinder could close the door for him.

"If we drive all night, then yes, we should get there by tomorrow afternoon," he said, and entered the car as well. He was about to put on his gloves when he realized that he didn't need to; it was not unforgivingly, frigidly cold inside the car.

He slid the key into the ignition and started up the engine, but before he could put the car in reverse, Zane grabbed his arm.

"You have something on your cheek," he said, his eyes narrowed.

"What?" Mohinder wiped his face and looked down at his hand; nothing was there. "What is it?"

"Steak sauce, I think," Zane said. "Right there." He pointed to a spot right under Mohinder's eye.

"How could steak sauce have gotten _there_?" He wiped the spot, but no sauce came off.

Zane chuckled. "One time, pasta sauce ended up on the back of my neck. My mom had to wipe it off with a towel, because I couldn't see it." His hand was still on Mohinder's arm.

Mohinder frowned, as he tried for the third time to get the sauce off of his face. "Did I get it yet?"

"No. Here, let me." Zane shifted and leaned much too close towards Mohinder, who felt his breath catch as Zane's cold, pale thumb stroked his cheek slowly.

"There," Zane whispered. "It's gone." He didn't pull back, however, and instead gazed deeply into Mohinder's eyes, with a look that Mohinder could not exactly decipher...

They stayed like that for several utterly agonizing moments, Mohinder's heart thumping so rapidly that he felt slightly faint, when Zane brushed his lips against Mohinder's. All of his thoughts seemed to stop as he became consumed by Zane's soft, lush lips, kissing him deeper and deeper, possessing him, Zane's tongue lightly caressing the inside of his mouth.

Mohinder gripped Zane's neck with his sweaty palm, kissing him back, Zane's stubble rubbing against his skin, Zane's moan resounding in the back of his throat.

Zane pulled away, his eyes half-closed.

Neither of them said anything.

Mohinder could not stop the smile slowly spreading across his face. He chortled slightly, and felt a strange happiness swell inside his stomach...but he quickly composed himself and faced his front.

"We better leave now if we want to make good time," he said.

"Of course." Zane settled back into his seat and stared straight ahead. "We have to find them."

Mohinder shifted into reverse and slowly backed the car out of the parking space, and before long they were back on the endless highway again.

The world zipped past them, the rushing sound of wind surrounding their ears, and Zane rolled down the window to let it in.

He stuck his hand outside, and moved it up and down in accordance to the wind's decree.

"It really is so cold out there," he said. "So dark and dangerous." He laughed. "This car sometimes feels like the last safe, warm place."

Mohinder merely smiled, and looked over at Zane, who was staring up at the sky.

"Do you ever wish you could fly, Mohinder?" he asked.

He shrugged. "Never really thought about it."

"I do." He inhaled the night air deeply. "Maybe we'll meet someone who can fly. I'd like to see that."

"That would certainly be an experience."

"If I could fly," Zane said, "I'd take you up there with me. In the clouds. Away from everything."

Mohinder felt tenderness that went all the way down to his toes, and rubbed Zane's shoulder. "That would be nice."

Zane smiled at him, and rolled the window back up. "Don't want the car to get cold."

A roar of thunder sounded across the distance, and a flash of lightning broke out across the skyscape. Rain started pouring down in torrents, making a _ping ping_ sound against the car's metal.

"This doesn't bode well," Mohinder muttered, turning on the windshield wipers. "We might not be able to get to New York in time if this storm keeps up."

"We'll make it," Zane said, sounding much too sure of himself. "Storms pass, right?"

They did, but Mohinder wasn't sure they could get past this one. Large, dark, looming clouds blocked the stars, and gave an ominous, frightening appearance to the night.

"We'll get there in time," Zane repeated.

Mohinder didn't respond, and just kept driving.


End file.
